silence scatters thoughts like pebbles
clattering down the rugged chasm into
the river as it roars through the home it hollowed.
the empty space crowded with
the endless possibilities of what could have been
this pain of not knowing
of something unjustly taken
of feeling wronged
of all of what should have been.
slowly abandoned in favor of
recognizing that what is had is far more
tangible,beautiful,meaningful
than all of what cannot be.
or would have been if that
river did not flow so swiftly through that rock
and make the chasm wider with each passing year.
the passerby do not remark on the beauty
that was lost when the river came.
what is seen is what remains.
what remains?
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